


John: be a responsible pet owner

by Laylah



Series: Petstuck [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Community: bucketlist, Fluff in Sketchy Circumstances, M/M, Ownership, Pets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-08
Updated: 2012-04-08
Packaged: 2017-11-03 06:01:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/378090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laylah/pseuds/Laylah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Hey, buddy," you say as you drop your keys on the table and kick your shoes off. "What's wrong?"</p><p>Equius chews on his lip like he's nervous about answering you, which is just weird. He's really good about being obedient—it was one of the reasons you got him as your first pet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	John: be a responsible pet owner

**Author's Note:**

> For anon at bucketlist:
> 
>  
> 
> _(inspired by the second gif here (http://theworldismyoysterrr.tumblr.com/post/19342089234))_
> 
>  
> 
> _Q: Most important thing you own?  
>  John: My troll, but I don't like to say I own him. We're just kind of buddies._
> 
>  
> 
> _Tell me about John and that troll he owns!_

When you get home Equius is waiting for you by the door, which he hasn't really done since the first week after you brought him home. (Gosh that week was nerve-wracking—you spent so much time pestering Dave and Rose with questions, since they'd already had trolls for ages, and you were so sure you would mess up with yours.) He's kneeling, back ramrod straight, hands on his thighs, his blue-and-yellow eyes wide. He really looks like he needs a hug.

"Hey, buddy," you say as you drop your keys on the table and kick your shoes off. "What's wrong?"

Equius chews on his lip like he's nervous about answering you, which is just weird. He's really good about being obedient—it was one of the reasons you got him as your first pet. (Dave's bro was the one who found him and suggested him for you: Equius came from a really good bloodline and had been trained well, but his broken horn wasn't growing back, so he had to be sold at a discount. You have a scratch-and-dent troll. It's kind of adorable.)

You touch his mouth with one fingertip to remind him to stop chewing. "Don't hurt yourself," you say. "Come on, let's go sit on the couch and relax, and you can tell me what the problem is."

He gets up and follows you into the living room, and you pat the couch next to you when you sit down. He still needs to be encouraged to actually use the furniture—when you leave him to his own devices he's spooked all the time like he thinks he'll break things by touching them. He sits, carefully, and you pull him down so you can pet his hair.

"So," you say. "What were you up to while I was gone?"

"I...I watched your program," he says.

You laugh awkwardly. "Not the best interview I've ever given," you say. You're still not used to being even a little bit famous.

Equius clings to your pant leg a little, his shoulders hunching. "You said...you don't like owning me," he says really quietly.

"What?" you say, flummoxed for a minute. You're pretty sure you said no such thing. Then you remember that one weird question. "No, buddy, that's not what I meant! I like having you here. I like you a lot." You huff out air in a rush, trying to explain yourself. "It's just...saying I _own_ you sounds creepy! I own my car. I own the furniture. It's just _stuff_. You're not just stuff."

"You're not going to get rid of me?" Equius asks.

"No," you say firmly. "Definitely not. No getting rid of." Dave and Rose were both really clear about that (in their own special ways, heh) when you started talking about getting a troll of your own. They've both had rescue trolls whose first owners didn't care, and the abandonment issues are, in Dave's words, _a catastrophe of massive tearjerking proportions, Egbert, so think carefully about whether you want to take this dive._

You slide your fingers up through Equius's hair until you can massage the base of his broken horn, which is pretty much always a good skritching spot. He starts to relax, and you watch the tension ease out of his shoulders. He starts making that low thrumming sound in his chest that Rose insists isn't a purr on a technicality, but it sounds pretty purr-like to you, and it means the same thing, all the manuals say so. It's an instinctive noise produced when a troll feels safe and receptive to touch. (Wild trolls are apparently really violent, so they _need_ to have signals about when it's okay to get in arm's reach, just so they don't attack each other all the time.)

"I'm glad you want to keep me," he says. His voice goes rumbly in a really neat way when he's purring. "I like being yours."

Well _that_ sure makes you feel warm and smooshy inside! "Good," you say. "I want you to be happy here." You keep skritching, watching him calm down and stop being so nervous, watching the way he sort of squirms around when he starts really getting into being touched. He's big for a troll, almost human-sized, and blues tend to be really muscular, and between those two things he's...well, sometimes watching him move makes you feel pretty funny in your pants! Which you have tried to be tactful about. You know some people do that with their trolls and you're not judging! It's just that Equius is _so_ well trained, and _so_ eager to please, you'd worry about him going along with stuff he didn't like, and then you'd feel like such a jerk.

The way he's moving right now, though, _man_. You can watch the slide of all those muscle groups in his back that you don't know the names for, and when his hips roll your mouth goes sort of dry. You shift your weight a little and let your right hand take over horn-skritching duty so you can reach down with your left and scratch your nails—bitten-short and blunt as they are—down his back.

Equius _moans_. There goes your ability to ignore what's going on in your pants.

"Wow," you say, all softly. "You feel good, huh? That's nice?"

"Mmmn," he says, "yes. It feels—aahn," and he just breaks off right there, rocking his hips, shivering. You feel sort of shivery yourself, watching him move. There was actually a part of you that figured he just didn't feel this kind of stuff? Like, the breeder had him fixed before selling him to you, but it sort of looks like that just means he can't make more trolls, not that he can't, uh. Feel exciting things.

You lick your lips. "You can take your shorts off, if that would feel good," you say, and your voice comes out a little funny.

Equius nods, almost poking you in the leg with his good horn, and reaches for the buttons of his shorts right away. (Some people also don't keep their trolls dressed at home—Rose has sent you some really elegant photos of Kanaya lounging naked on the fancy couches in her house—but you have always been Not So Sure About That. It occurs to you now that maybe he would rather _not_ be wearing clothes, and you've just assumed without ever asking. Being a responsible pet owner is hard!)

He squirms out of his shorts and you can see a blue flush around the sheath of his bulge—it's starting to swell and open up already. "Just from a little scratching, huh?" you ask.

Equius hunches in on himself a little. "I apologize for my poor self-control," he says.

You laugh. "Don't apologize," you say. "It's fine. I'm glad you're enjoying it." You drag your nails down his chest and his purr gets louder. His hips arch a little and the tip of his bulge slips free of the sheath, dark blue and shiny-wet. You've heard they're prehensile. You lick your lips again. You almost say, _Should I keep doing this?_ except that you've noticed it makes Equius sort of nervous and confused when you ask him what you should do.

Instead you say, "Tell me if anything I do feels bad, because I want you to have a good time." You keep rubbing behind one horn and scratch his chest and belly some more. (You're sort of proud of your dexterity right now, actually.) Equius purrs and digs his shoulderblades into the couch under him—he's _wiggling_ , gosh that's cute, and it makes you feel so good to see that under all the serious business training he can still remember how to just be happy sometimes. "There you go, buddy," you encourage him. "That's nice, huh?"

"Yes," he says, "yes," the words barely rising out of the purr. He rocks his hips up again when your hand strays low across his belly and you think maybe this really is okay after all. You let your fingertips drift lower, trace the opening of his bulge sheath, and his bulge slides out enough to twine around your fingers.

That is _the cutest thing_. You might say "Aaww," a little. You curl your fingers, stroking along it, letting it twine between them. It slides further out to get a better grip on you, and mostly you're just fascinated until Equius moans again and that reminds you that you're playing with his _junk_. And your own feels kind of neglected.

"Okay, hang on just a second," you say, and scoot out from under him so you can get up. He watches you like he's not sure what's going on but he trusts you, whatever you have in mind. It makes your heart feel a little funny.

You unzip your jeans and then figure you might as well go all the way with this, and pull your shirt off over your head before you shove your jeans and your boxers down. Equius is watching you sort of curiously, and you definitely catch the moment when he looks down at your dick and then looks away really fast. His bulge squirms against his belly, leaving little blue trails across his skin.

"Here we go," you say, climbing back onto the couch with him. You coax him to stretch out, and lower yourself down on top of him, bracing your weight carefully. When your dick rubs up against his bulge, it curls right around you. "Oh," you say, "wow, _yeah_."

Equius nods frantically, his bulge twisting and squeezing rhythmically. "Is this—may I," he says, his hands sliding tentatively up your sides.

"Yeah," you say. "Go ahead and touch, it feels good." You thrust into the grip of his bulge and that's _awesome_ , slick and gripping you just right. You let your head fall forward, forehead against his shoulder, and hum a low moan of your own as his bulge slides across the really sensitive spot just behind the head of your dick. You kiss him along the alien curve of his collar bone and he clings to you, his hands on your back and his bulge on your dick, and you're pretty much just letting your hips do what comes naturally at this point.

The noises Equius makes are kind of amazing. The purr's in high gear and it makes all of his moans have a rumbly undertone to them, and his breath comes in harsh warm puffs past your ear. When you let your teeth scrape his skin a little bit, experimentally, he croons wordlessly and shudders all over. You bite him a little harder—trolls _are_ pretty rough with each other, right?—and he bucks hard enough that he almost throws you. "Please, please, yes," he says, and hearing actual need in his voice pretty much wrecks you.

"Yeah, I got you," you tell him, "I got you, it's good, you're doing really g-good, aah," and you give up trying to talk about then because _wow_ and also _oh my god_ , the things he's doing to you, slick and squirming and pulsing. You bite again, right at the base of his throat, and this time you're ready for it when that makes him start to thrash. You hold on tight and let his needy sounds wash over you and feel the way he's squeezing you tight, oh god, milking your dick, and your desperate losing-it sound is muffled by his skin as you blast right past the point of no return and come all over him, a big shuddering mess.

His bulge is still coiled around you, squirming just a little, when you finish, and you try to just stick that out but you're pretty sensitive and it's a little uncomfortable. When you try to pull back—slowly, because yanking when you're tangled up like this seems likely to be uncomfortable for both of you!—he whimpers a little but he lets you go. You wedge yourself into the tiny space between the back of the couch and Equius, still pressed against his side.

There are a few strands of hair stuck to his forehead, damp with sweat. You reach up and smooth them back off his face, and he smiles at you. "You are...satisfied?" he asks.

"Oh man, yeah," you say, grinning at him. "You bet I am. How about you? Did you, uh," there's no great way to ask this and you feel sort of weird about it, because you've heard they make like bucketloads of mess and you don't see any evidence of that, "did you get off?"

Equius blushes deep blue across his cheekbones and that's kind of stupid adorable. "Y-yes," he says. "Ah. Three times."

"Haha, wow, really?" you say. You definitely need to learn more about how trolls work. "Awesome."

He looks sort of shy about that, but he leans into you and that's adorable. "I...I'm glad it pleases you," he says.

"Of course it does, silly," you tell him. You realize he always seems a little surprised, a little confused, when you make a point to take care of him or worry about making him happy. "You know, you missed something, being so hung up on me not liking the word 'own,'" you point out. You kiss his forehead. "The question was about what's most important to me. And I picked you."

Equius looks up at you with such adorable puppy eyes you think you might just melt right there. "I'm very glad," he says. "I am...happy to be yours."

"That's really sweet," you tell him. "I promise, I'm going to do my best to take good care of you." You look down at the sticky mess drying on his stomach, his fluids and yours. "Starting with getting you washed up, I think. And then we'll see about making dinner. How's that sound?"

Equius smiles at you, and yeah, melting time. "Excellent," he says.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [John: be a responsible pet owner [PODFIC]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/526819) by [Opalsong](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Opalsong/pseuds/Opalsong)
  * [Petstuck Series Whole [PODFIC]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/526860) by [Opalsong](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Opalsong/pseuds/Opalsong)




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